


By the barest of margins

by Agoodcaptain



Series: By The Barest of Margins [1]
Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Awkward Run-ins, Celebrations, Joe and Jos being embarrassed, Liam being sweet, M/M, Woody being cheeky, Woody being grubby, World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24600832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agoodcaptain/pseuds/Agoodcaptain
Summary: England have won the world cup by the barest of margins... but how do Liam Plunkett and Mark Wood celebrate..?
Relationships: Jos Buttler/Joe Root, Liam Plunkett/Mark Wood
Series: By The Barest of Margins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778338
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	By the barest of margins

_“This is the moment, it’s Archer to Guptill. Two to win. Guptill’s gonna push for two, they’ve got to go. Throw’s going to go to the Keeper’s end… He’s got it! England have won the World Cup, by the barest of margins, by the barest of all margins. Absolute ecstasy for England. Agony, agony for New Zealand ”_

**_This is the moment..._ **

Not the moment when it all finished, but the moment after, Liam’s heart sank. Of course he was over the moon; England had just won the World Cup - he had just won the World Cup, but the person he wanted to celebrate with, the eyes he most wanted to meet, the arms he most wanted to feel round his broad back in a triumphant hug were nowhere to be seen. Liam knew that Mark was just a few hundred yards away on the balcony, having shuffled out of the treatment room for the Super Over, but right now, at this moment that was supposed to be the absolute apex of Liam’s career, Mark felt far too far away, he may as well have been back in Ashington.

Without making it too obvious, Liam tried to edge off the pitch and toward the dressing room. He was stepping over the boundary rope, lost in thought, planning what he would say if a teammate asked him why he was abandoning the celebrations when he felt a hand at the small of his back, making him jump. “Just going to the loo,” Liam blurted out far too loudly, before he looked up to see that the hand belonged to the very man he was sneaking off to find. Liam wanted to explain but Mark – always the more decisive of the two of them – clearly felt that words were wrong for this moment and pulled Liam by his strong wrists into a hug. From the outside – if anyone was looking at them, which they rarely were – it looked like any teammates celebrating a victory, only the hearts hammering beneath their sky blue shirts knew any different. Losing himself briefly, Liam bent down, burying his nose in Mark’s short brunette hair and inhaling deeply.

Mark immediately sprang back, “Did you just smell my hair?” The question was asked with a smile, unless he was steaming in with the ball Mark seldom had anything other than a cheeky Northern grin on his face (Liam can’t explain it but he swears that facial expression has a Geordie accent). The smile disarmed Liam as it always did and he gulped, caught out.  
“Maybe,” Liam mumbled, dropping his voice even though the crowd noise was drowning out their conversation from any eavesdroppers, “Well I can’t snog you right now so I um… made do.” Liam smiled sadly as he reflected on what he just said - they were always just making do – but he didn’t have time to dwell on this because Mark was guffawing at him. Not for the first time around Mark, Liam blushed deeply; indeed it was pretty much only around Mark that he turned this unflattering shade of pink.  
“What?” Liam hated being left out of something, which was somewhat unfortunate, as Mark loved making Liam the butt of his jokes. Mark was already walking away from Liam and toward the huddle of teammates that seemed reluctant to disperse, still laughing to himself. Liam frowned, following Mark, about to ask again what he had missed. Mark looked sideways to Liam and started giggling again,  
“Snogged, he muttered, then “seriously though, who says snogged anymore?”  
Liam tried to think of a retort, but he only managed a “Well…” before trailing off rather pathetically. Finally, Mark stopped laughing, and quickly stepped into Liam so that just for a moment their faces were very close together and whispered,  
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your snog later.” Mark didn’t wait for a response, merely turning and walking stiffly towards Jofra Archer, his injury already clear despite Mark pretending it wasn’t there. Liam’s mouth dried up, his pulse quickening like he was facing up to Ferguson all over again. He swallowed with as much saliva he could muster, and moved into the crowd of blue shirts, with a strange, inscrutable smile on his face.

* * *

_**Two to win...** _

Jos and Joe were acting as conductors, leading the group in a completely tuneless but utterly joyful sing-song with the aid of Joe’s ukelele that he ‘just happened’ to have brought along with him in his kit bag. Liam was sat in a corner along the back wall of the room, Mark on his left and Chris on the far side. Mark had his arms around the both of them, forcing them to sway along to the music. As the song reached its noisy crescendo, Liam laughed and finished his beer. Seeing this, Jason threw him another from the cooler that he already had his hand in. Liam casually palmed it, as easy as if it was the newly shined cherry flying to him at the start of his run up.   
“Cheers,” he smiled, but Jason did not hear.  
“Cheers,” Mark said, clinking his Coke bottle with Liam’s Carlsberg, and Liam was too charmed to correct him. Liam took a gulp, realising he was already starting to feel it; despite his size, he was always a bit of a lightweight.

“Feeling okay?” Mark asked with that amazing but also somewhat terrifying sense he always seemed to have for Liam’s inner workings, his dark eyebrows crinkling adorably in concern. Liam realised Chris had gotten up to fight with their physio Mark Saxby over control of the iPod dock but Mark still had his arm around Liam’s shoulders. Normally this might set Liam on edge but he was far too happy right now to worry about it - either that or the beer was smoothing over the cracks - so he just relaxed into the wall and Mark’s arm.  
“Never better babe,” he purred, low enough for only Mark to hear. Mark blushed all the way up through his endearingly prominent ears, but tried to feign composure. He briefly but deliberately gives Liam’s leg a squeeze several inches above the knee.  
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your reward later.”  
Liam frowned, realising what Mark meant, “No, come on, our competition doesn’t count if you’re injured.”  
“Of course it does, I’m a man of my word Liam Edward Plunkett, and your figures were better. I’ll bring my shin guards.”  
Liam’s eyes widened and he took a glance around, crossing his legs for good measure. “Okay, one: what did I tell you about using my full name in public? You know I don’t like that.”  
A low soft giggle bubbled up from Mark as he forced Liam’s legs back down. “Well either you’re still wearing your box or the problem is you do like it.”  
Liam coughed awkwardly and pushed through the resistance of Mark’s hands to cross his legs again. “And two: you need to be careful, take it easy.” Mark opened his mouth to argue but for once Liam was putting his foot down. “No, Woody, tonight I’m in charge and I’m taking care on you.” Mark’s smile was a surprised one, but he clearly isn’t displeased with the idea. He got up to join Chris at the iPod to see if he can save the room from the predictable Taylor Swift barrage Chris had lined up but not without giving Liam’s leg another squeeze and whispering, “Yessir, Mr. Pudsey sir.” 

* * *

_**They've got to go..** _ _**.** _

As Liam expected, the celebrations went on for quite a while. Normally, he wouldn’t have minded and Mark was often the life and soul of the party. Despite being teetotal, you could often find him at the centre of a crowd holding court or in the middle of the dance floor. Liam always admired that about Mark, he didn’t care about making an idiot of himself, he was just so utterly full of joy, and it was infectious. That was what drew Liam to him initially anyway. Sure that million-watt smile, and eyes like molten chocolate didn’t hurt. But it was the sheer bliss that seemed to emanate from Mark that Liam first got hooked on; Mark being the most caring man Liam had ever met, their nights of whispered promises, the kisses that lasted a lifetime, well – all that came later. Yeah, nights out with the team were normally great, and on days like today when they had fought so hard – when they had earned it all together, it meant a lot. But… how could Liam put it? Winning made him horny. And all he wanted was to scoop Mark up in a fireman’s lift him out of the club, march him across town and straight into his room.

But not only would that contravene his earlier vow to be gentle with Mark’s injured side, it might be just a touch conspicuous especially as at this very moment Mark was talking Jofra through how to do the worm, or more precisely yelling instructions as Jofra writhed on the floor. So Liam just smiled and sipped his gin and tonic, relishing the sharp taste of the lime on his tongue. He had slowed his intake right down since they left the dressing room, and made sure to actually eat something. When your partner doesn’t drink, getting yourself in a slurry mess and having to be carried to bed was just plain tacky. And Liam much grander plans for how their night should end.

Liam was already getting up, leaving the last gulp of his drink in the glass, and shuffling out of the booth when Ben – fresh from the dance floor – made his way over and cornered Liam against the table.  
“Y’alright Pudsey?” Ben shouted over the music, breathing dragon breath onto Liam that made his eyes water.  
“All good Stokesy, just tired. Think I might head back to the hotel.”  
“Ah no, no come on! Jos and Joe have already pissed off.”  
“Have they? I wonder… Sorry mate, big day.”  
Ben made a vague gesture of annoyance but clearly decided he’d rather sit down and have a rest than continue arguing. Maybe someone should be getting Ben in a cab too, but Liam would be damned if it was his one. Anyway he looked harmless for now, more sleepy-drunk than anything else.  
“Love you Stokesy, you’re a hero.” Liam gave Ben an awkward hug as Ben leant heavily against the side of the booth. Liam was about to leave him there – he looked comfortable enough – when Ben snapped to lucidity, looked him in the eye and said deliberately,  
“You want me to go get Woody?” Liam froze, what did Ben just say? Liam did a couple of gulps trying to decide what to say.  
“Shhh, Benji, you’re drunk, just have a rest there mate.”Ben didn’t react to Liam but continued with the same clarity of speech,  
“I can go tell Woody to meet you in the cab if you want,” and then after a pause as if the thoughts were entirely separate, “I don’t mind.”  
Liam couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s plain and simple manner; yes, Stokesy was quite the hero.  
“No, it’s okay, I’ll get him. You stay there pal.”  
Ben seemed happy enough with this option, patted Liam on the head in an almost fatherly manner and sunk into the comfy seats. Liam strolled past the dance floor, not stopping but slowing down as he passed the group of players committing crimes against dancing, and, suppressing a laugh, he gave Mark a look that just said: it’s on. Mark knew well enough what that look meant and it was all he could do to not have his eyes pop out cartoon-style. He counted to thirty at a speed no stopwatch could match, leaned into Jason to let him know he was off, and made a beeline for the exit before anyone could offer an argument to get him to stay.

* * *

_**The keeper's end...** _

The Uber profile gave their driver’s hometown as Marrakech, which didn’t exactly strike Mark and Liam as a cricket hotbed, but there was no point taking chances. Although it took all of Liam’s willpower, after whispering “Seventeen minutes” and squeezing Mark’s shapely behind before they got into the back seat, he sat quite apart from him, nodding along to the terrible late night trance music on the radio and grunting in agreement when Karim swore at the traffic. He risked one sidelong glance at Mark who was staring at him unflinchingly, and Liam’s cheeks heated up so much, he had to rest them on the window to cool down.

With the unspoken promise of a 5-star rating for his efficient journey, Liam and Mark skipped from the car to the hotel, nodded at the doorman while forcing down grins and practically ran to the lifts. The wait after pressing the button was the closest thing to eternity Liam ever wanted to experience, and he couldn’t help pouncing on Mark as soon as the door closed. The kiss was desperate, and accompanied by Liam shoving both hands under Mark’s shirt and running them roughly up his sides. Mark whimpered involuntarily and Liam sprang back, eyes wide. “Oh shit, sorry, sorry baby, I-“ Mark had to laugh “It’s okay, I’m okay. Now come back here.” But just as Mark reached for Liam again, the lift bumped clumsily to a halt and noisily opened its doors onto a harshly lit corridor.   
“Hold that thought,” Liam whispered as he stalked to his room, trusting Mark would follow dutifully behind.

Their separation proved just as well, as rounding the corner they came across a sleepy looking hotel staffer tucking a newly signed receipt pad into his pocket, and their sandy-haired wicket keeper taking delivery of a champagne bucket dressed only in inside-out boxers. Jos blushed through every visible pore of skin, which in this case, was a lot of them. The staffer had seen a lot weirder things than this and quickly lost interest, leaving them to it, whatever ‘it’ was.  
“You’re back early boys,” Jos’ voice cracked as he stalled for time. Liam and Mark grinned at each other – saying nothing. “Just… um… felt like treating myself,” Jos stammered, answering the question they hadn’t asked.  
“Well deserved,” Mark said through his patented Geordie smirk.  
“Both of you,” Liam added, without missing a beat.  
With absolutely excellent timing, before Jos could offer up a futile denial, a soft Sheffield-edged voice came out from the gloom behind Jos. “Jossy, what are you- come back.”  
Liam turned to mouth “Jossy?” at Mark while they both forced down laughter, and Jos’ blush deepened further, turning the shade of that dreadful (and cursed) solar orange England kit of a few years before.  
“Goodnight Jospeh…s” Mark offered with a wink, deciding it was safe enough now to take Liam by the hand and tug him along the corridor, leaving a stunned but smiling wicketkeeper in their wake.

* * *

_**He's got it..** _

Liam and Mark were a giggly, breathless mess when they reached Liam’s room. When Mark got the giggles, it was very hard to make him stop but Liam didn’t have the patience to wait anymore; he’d spent all evening staring at him, wanting this, but even more than that he’d wasted months yearning after Mark, thinking that his feelings were unrequited. So being decisive for once, he stopped Mark’s laugh with a kiss, gently but firmly pushing Mark into the wall. Mark let himself melt into the kiss, drinking in Liam’s taste, his scent and the feel of his mouth and tongue on his own as if it was the first time. Mark was lost like this for a while but soon it was not just below the belt that he was starting to get stiff. Derailing Liam now however, even temporarily, was easier said than done.

“Liam-“ Mark started as Liam rammed his mouth into Mark’s neck, and his knee between Mark’s two legs, forcing them apart. “Liam, babe, stop.” Mark’s urgency sent a shockwave of panic through the previously preoccupied Liam, and he sprang away from Mark, balancing his weight against the wall on his knuckles as he searched Mark with concern.  
“What, what? Sorry, I- oh god, sorry.” Mark bit his lip to stop a laugh that threatened to spoil the mood.  
“I’m fine. Really. But like, in the spirit of being careful, you do have a bed…”  
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I just got a bit- yeah, sorry.”  
“Repeatedly saying sorry isn’t as sexy as you think it is.” Liam just about stopped himself from saying sorry again, and the look in Mark’s eyes told Liam he knew that all too well.  
“Come on,” Mark whispered, slipping from underneath Liam, then pulling him by his belt loops into the room and towards the bed. They’d only been in the hotel for a couple of nights before the game while they trained but Mark knew it intimately, his own room down the hall remaining pristine with only his team suit hanging up, and his kitbag slung in the corner. The poor ECB were wasting their money with that one but the misspent travel expenses of his employers were amongst the furthest things from Mark’s mind right now as he stopped in front of the bed and began to undress.

Liam froze Mark’s hands and forced them to his side, taking Mark’s face in his large, calloused, capable hands and kissing him with a surprising tenderness. Liam then leaned into Mark’s ear, nipped his lobe playfully and whispered, “I’m looking after you, remember?” Mark grinned and happily surrendered as Liam slowly and silently removed Mark’s clothes and then his own, never breaking his intense gaze. Liam took his time, leaning back to take in Mark’s muscled form, his compact frame, his taught arms, his rock hard cock standing proud to match his partner’s; a lascivious smirk spread across Liam’s face. Mark enjoyed the moment, enjoyed being admired, and allowed himself to be scooped in Liam’s strong arms and lowered onto the bed. Mark, who had always taken charge in the past, wasn’t sure what to expect from the night but even as they began to get going, Mark couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t tried this earlier, why they hadn’t even had a go at Liam taking the lead, with all the other things that had been included in their repertoire. Mark let his mind fully relax as every inch of his body stood to attention. Liam started by kissing Mark, softly at first then hard and desperate. Mark made encouraging motions below Liam’s waist while Liam explored his way down Mark’s body with his tongue, tasting everything, consuming him – his neck, his collarbone, his nipples, down to his bellybutton, lingering there. Instead of the more direct route, Liam traced a line with his tongue along Mark’s hips, through to his inseam, then down and finally taking in Mark’s… toes?

Mark half-sat up in surprise and Liam seemed to immediately regret his decision, choking in what Mark had to imagine was disgust, because Liam’s gag reflex was pretty much non-existent.  
When he had sufficiently recovered, Liam muttered, almost to himself, “Yeah… that was a mistake.”  
“My feet have been in bowling boots most of the day so yeah I wouldn’t do that again.”  
“Yeah… wait, you did shower before we went out though?”  
Mark winced, “Aussie shower?"  
“Mark, that is- You know, I love your grubby Geordie ways, but that is fucking disgusting.”  
Mark cringed again, realising the mood was threatening to dissipate, and very quickly at that. “I’ll have a shower now, then.”  
“Fine,” Liam grunted, taking a seat in the bed, looking like a grumpier but decidedly sexier version of that sculpture they’d seen on one of their rare trips away together. They’d gone to Paris, mainly because it seemed like the thing to do but they’d tired easily of the museums and sights, and spent most of the time eating these insanely good chicken sandwiches the hotel did, and not leaving the room. It was a great weekend, but seemed like a waste of their surroundings. Mark smiled briefly at the memory, before tugging the sad naked giant below him to his feet, trying hard not to strain himself more than necessary.  
“You want to give me a rub down, Pudsey?” Mark’s eyes lit upon something, and he grinned, cocksure “or should that be Sudsey?”  
“I’m going to ignore that last part.”  
“You’re just jealous of my biting wit, babe.”  
“I’m going to bite you in a second.”  
“Be my guest,” Mark smirked, glad the mood was returning and led Liam into the bathroom.

* * *

_**Absolute ecstasy...** _

Say what you like about the ECB they are never mean with space, at least where there were decent hotels available, which wasn’t everywhere. Liam had never been bothered about the view from his room, how high the thread count in his sheets was or whether there were slippers and a dressing gown hanging in the wardrobe – okay scratch that, because some of those dressing gowns were heavenly – but having a large shower had certainly been helpful over the years. For someone so averse to keeping up with normal standards of cleanliness, Mark was a great fan and an enthusiastic practitioner of shower sex. Mark pulled Liam under the spray before it had even warmed up, causing Liam to screech in a way he wasn’t proud of. “Bit late for a cold shower, Woody.”  
“Aw, you don’t seem to mind, big strapping Yorkie lad like yourself, don’t tell me you’ve turned into a soft southern git.” Mark accompanied the statement by cupping Liam’s cock, which was still stiff despite the temperature, proving a reply from Liam redundant. “Thought so,” Mark smiled as he took Liam in a deep kiss. Mark pushed Liam backwards into the wall forcefully, causing Liam to emit a low, rumbling chuckle.  
“Is this you being careful?”  
“The warm water is soothing – I’m all better now.”  
“Uh huh.” Liam didn’t have the will to argue anymore, Mark usually got his own way with him. They fell to kissing again, and Mark began massaging Liam’s cock, slowly working his fingers to Liam’s waiting entrance. Not totally forgetting why they ended up there in the first place, Liam slyly reached for his shower gel and gave Mark the best rub down he’d had since he and two of his teammates in Australia had turned a post-match celebration into an extended workout in the dressing room. But Mark was eighteen then, on his first trip away from home, just figuring his game out, still figuring himself out. Now, he was older, (somewhat) wiser, a World Cup winner and getting soaking wet with his gorgeous, cuddly bear of a teammate who he just might be to head over heels in love with.

Mark took a pause to appreciate just how well things had turned out for him, just an undersized fast bowler from Ashington with 'too much chat for too few wickets'.  
“What?” Liam squinted through the water at Mark, realising his partner was staring at him, mouth open.  
“Nothing,” Mark flashed a smirk, barely missing a beat, “just giving you a second to prepare for the best fucking of your entire life.”  
“Oh my God,” Liam groaned, his laughter booming in the tiled bathroom.  
“Yeah, you usually say that after.”  
“Mark, you are unbelievable.”  
“Thank you,” Mark beamed, pulling Liam into a deep kiss, and a millisecond later, entering him with a deeper thrust.  
“Oh my God,” Liam repeated, involuntarily overcome, causing Mark too much satisfaction. Unwilling to completely crumble to Mark’s will, Liam made a rough grab for Mark’s cock, pumping away at it as Mark – sensing a competition – plunged into Liam. The two bowlers interchanged fiery blows, each delivery coming wildly off the track and being smacked for a boundary. But that kind of pitch has a way of taking victims, and Mark and Liam were out in consecutive balls before the end of the over. They collapsed against each other panting in exhausted bliss. Unable to stand being in a shower much longer, or perhaps just unable to stand, Mark quickly rinsed off and tracing his finger through Liam’s chest hair, left him under the water with a chaste kiss.  
“Dry yourself off, Puds. We’ve still got your reward to come. I’ll start limbering up.”  
Liam laughed softly as Mark left the bathroom with a wink, still dripping. Making the most of the opportunity to rest between innings, and also because he was slightly obsessed with the smell of his new shampoo, Liam washed his hair for the third time that day, the second time as World Champion. Then, he dried himself off and strolled to join Mark, towel slung around his shoulders and a smile on his face that showed he was the jammiest git alive, and didn’t he know it.

* * *

**_Agony, agony..._ **

The next morning at breakfast, Mark took a seat at Jos and Joe’s table, knowing it would be a special kind of torture for both of them. Liam would have normally left Mark to it; there was such a thing as hanging out with him too much. It wasn’t necessarily that people would talk, it’s just that sometimes Mark’s relentless energy was physically and mentally exhausting. And there was also the fact that he ate with an appetite of a very real horse, and it became difficult to see Mark in an at all sexual manner after seeing him wolf down eggs and toast without pausing for breath. But Jos and Joe looked so uncomfortable and Liam’s better nature won out as he came over to save them.  
“Good night last night?” Mark grinned as Liam sat down.  
“Yup.”  
“Yup.”  
Joe and Jos answered in quick succession without looking up from their plates.  
“Get up to anything special?” Mark continued, showing the table the unmasticated contents of his mouth.  
“Woody,” Liam warned, responding to Mark’s faux-innocent expression by not taking the bait, “Er… don’t speak with your mouth full.  
“You’ve never complained before.”  
“Jesus!” Liam exclaimed despairing. Mark grinned, Jos turned his now signature shade of red and Joe couldn’t take it anymore, rushing to get up from the table with a muttered excuse about getting more coffee. In his hurry, Joe almost collided with Jonny who was on his way back from the buffet with a very full plate. Joe screeched to a halt and avoided the crash by mere millimetres.  
“Oof, that was almost a terrible mess,” Jonny giggled, then with a cringingly bad Kiwi accent “By the barest of margins, by the barest of all margins.” Joe and the rest of the table stared at Jonny, nonplussed.  
“What on earth was that Young JB?” Mark asked, using the nickname he half-affectionately/half-mockingly invented to distinguish between the two wicket keepers even though there was less than three weeks difference in their ages.  
“You guys haven’t watched the last ball yet?” Jonny put his plate down, unable to hold it up any longer, so much was his disbelief, “Jos, seriously, **you** haven’t heard the commentary? Ian Smith?”  
Everyone at the table struggled to come up with a response; Joe simply shuffled away, cheeks if anything hotter than before. After too long a pause, Mark – his Northern Smirk™ stretched across his face – leant back in his chair and said on an exhale,  
“We were all a bit busy last night, mate.”  
Jonny’s incredulity seemed to dissipate quickly and he picked up his breakfast with a shrug, “ICC made this video…‘s great… I’ll show you later if you like.” And then, Jonny was gone, his grumbling stomach winning out over his desire to interrogate them all further. Attempting to break the tension, and stop Jos from actually turning into a tomato, Liam offered, “I think we got away with that one.”  
“Yeah, just,” Jos croaked.  
Mark scarcely kept in a giggle as he whispered, “By the barest of margins.” Liam groaned, Jos chuckled despite himself and started searching on his phone for the video Jonny was on about. “You love me really,” Mark said to Liam without turning to him, giving his knee a quick squeeze beneath the table, which was his way of apologising. Liam dropped his voice so a now distracted Jos wouldn’t hear and, putting his hand on Mark’s to keep it in place, said simply - without art, without thinking, without much of anything in his voice - “Yeah, actually, I think I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this for the Ashes fic exchange way back when. I've never written this pairing before but I'm glad I got given it as an option because I love it. I have a Jos and Joe companion piece to this as well, I'll post it soon! Hope you enjoyed xxx


End file.
